


your hope dangling by a string

by rainydayscribbles



Series: can't count the years on one hand that we've been together [3]
Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Banter, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Oh also, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unreliable Narrator, aka are we still gonna talk to each other in college, basically b/d navigating college and what they are to each other, emotional tension, i repeat emotional tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayscribbles/pseuds/rainydayscribbles
Summary: She quirks an eyebrow at him. "So are we enemies or friends?"The air in his lungs stops in his throat, because right now, the way she's looking at him makes him want to push her down against his bed. His pillows are justthere, and it'd be so simple, so easy to just kiss her. Malibu dances in his mind, the memory of her pliant mouth, her soft hands, her black waves.Instead, he coughs. "Enemies, obviously. Always."or: ben and devi keep finding each other on princeton's campus, and over time, find something more
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Series: can't count the years on one hand that we've been together [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888549
Comments: 19
Kudos: 89





	your hope dangling by a string

**Author's Note:**

> written in the same series as [let's run it back (for you and me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846697) and [i wanna fight with you and no one else](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825397)
> 
> hi hello! notes:
> 
> 1) listen. college is a tough time. it's not all rainbows and sunshine and the best four years of your life as people say it is. there's ups and downs. i strongly believe finding comfort in people you know and trust early is the key, and that's what i leaned into in this fic for ben/devi 
> 
> 2) there is the smallest amount of IMPLIED smut and a lil bit of sexual tension, but no explicit sex in this fic. sorry folks. but i add the m rating just to be safe
> 
> 3) i tried to write this a little differently than i usually write, with less emphasis on metaphors and more on the actual _words_ , which is me just trying to push myself out of the boxes and boundaries i've created for myself as a writer
> 
> 4) because of the above, i'd love for yall to leave comments/kudos if you enjoyed <3
> 
> title is from gone, gone, gone by phillip phillips. i feel as though that song kinda works here but it also doesn't so listen to it if you want! or not :)

Logically speaking, Devi knew Ben was going to Princeton.

What was she going to do about it? Nothing, really.

Well, if nothing translated to avoiding him as a European might have the bubonic plague in the 1300s, then yeah, she was going to do nothing.

* * *

Her plan of avoidance works for about one week, cut short by the fact that Devi doesn't account for the very precise experimental variable of Ben Gross _changing_ from high school.

He's standing in the middle of the room at a College Dems meeting, and she freezes in the doorway, taking him in.

Ben Gross. At a College Dems meeting. Wearing a polo and khakis and looking relatively unbothered. _At ease._

She breathes in and breathes out.

Rearranges her expression.

She's got this.

"Hey, Gross," she says, striding up to him.

He turns to her and his expression is detached, observant, as if she's a simple table or chair that he'd just noticed, nothing of enormous importance.

"Hi, Devi," he murmurs.

"So, this isn't really your scene, huh?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Well, you were in Young Republicans for like, your whole life. This feels like too much of a 180 for your small brain to take."

"I was only in it because you made me pick between it and Orchestra, and I know how much you wanted Orchestra."

She tries to breathe.

"Or you knew you would never be able to play the bassoon as well as Charlie," she says. "I saw you drop it at our seventh-grade concert."

He cocks his head at her curiously. "I'm just trying new things. That's what college is all about, right?"

"Right." As if she'd believe that. "What's the real reason you're at this meeting?"

There's a hidden query there, but neither of them is brave enough to ask it outright.

"I just told you."

"You expect me to believe that you're suddenly a fan of hiking corporate tax rates and decreasing military spending overnight? Not to mention the debate on abortion we had senior year, where you said you were fucking pro-life." She spits the last word as if it's vermin.

"I had to argue pro-life, Devi, because that was the side I was _assigned_."

"What about the welfare system? Free healthcare? Do you support those concepts?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if it's mentally taxing to have this conversation. "In theory, I think they would be great. Their execution has significant potential to be fraught, though."

She stares at him.

"I'm gonna go sit down now." He shoves his hands in his pockets, and then walks away.

Devi doesn't sit next to him during the meeting, because that's personal and juvenile, and she's _also_ trying new things. She sits next to some girl from Texas, and steals glances at Ben out of the corner of her eye.

It irks her that he never looks her way.

* * *

Devi realizes that they have a class together two weeks into the semester.

It's a one-credit, so it only meets once a week. Introduction to Economic Theory. It's a big class, held in a huge lecture hall, meant for some odd 200 people.

She gets there early, because it helps ease her nerves, and picks a seat near the front, not too close to look like a try-hard, but not far enough away to look disinterested.

Ben plops down next to her unceremoniously minutes later.

"Hey," he says, setting his bag down and rifling through it.

"Um," she freezes, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm sitting next to you. I'm attending my class. I'm breathing air. I'm living life." He pulls out a notebook, moleskin and regal.

Of course, he couldn't just get a Five Star one like everyone else.

"You're in this class?"

"Clearly," he responds, eyes trailing the projector screen.

She huffs out a breath. "Well, you're going to have to move soon, because I'm waiting for someone."

He doesn't look at her, just quirks his mouth upwards. "Ok. They can sit on the other side of you."

"No. No, they can't, because I—I get claustrophobic."

"Big lecture halls, Devi. Tons of people. I can't help you there."

"I'm not asking you to help. I'm not asking you to do anything in fact. I'm _telling_ you to move."

"I've known you long enough to know that you're not claustrophobic. Remember the afterparty at junior year prom?"

She recalls, faintly, being crushed in the midst of a sweaty, large mass of people, in someone's basement. She was jumping to some ridiculous hip hop song drunk off her ass, letting the crowd move her, in her element. She doesn't remember blue eyes, though.

Maybe he had a point, regardless.

The lecture starts and they ignore each other, diligently taking notes, shoulders occasionally brushing. Every so often, Ben surreptitiously leans over to glance at her paper, wanting to write down something he missed, but he always does so quickly and quietly, no words exchanged.

It's a stunning contrast to high school, where they'd sit in front of each other and throw taunts and jabs throughout the whole period, much to the chagrin of everyone around them. It's as if they're two spiders on the same web, leading their own lives, but in harmony with one another.

It's almost _comforting_ , and Devi wonders if Ben feels the same.

* * *

Ben gets an iced Americano every Thursday before his 8 am lecture at the smallest coffee shop on campus, nothing more than a few bags of coffee beans and exactly four syrup options hiding behind the counter.

It's tiny, nothing extravagant, not what he's used to for sure, but he likes it. It's become a routine for him, and he cherishes consistency.

This particular day, he glances behind him in line to find a familiar face, earbuds plugged in, and squinting at her phone. She looks the slightest bit frazzled, and for a second Ben thinks she might be running late, but one glance at his silver watch tells him she's not. She's just always this intense.

He jerks back around when the cashier clears their throat, to focus on ordering, and then moves to wait near the opposite end of the shop.

She joins him, still engrossed in her phone, and he feels an inexplicable urge to greet her.

So he does.

"Bit early for you, isn't it?"

In hindsight, he should've realized he poked a sleeping bear.

She glances up at him and pulls her earbuds out, tucking them into her pocket. "What the hell do you want, Gross?"

It's so similar to the antagonism of their school years that he almost smiles. "Just making conversation, Vishwakumar. As one does with people they know."

"When people have earbuds in," she bites out, "it means _do not talk to me_. What about that do you not understand?"

"Come on. You know I'm an exception to your rules, Devi."

"Since when?"

"Since always."

She scoffs. "You couldn't be more damn wrong."

"Face it, Devi," he says, stepping closer to her, "you love seeing me on campus."

"More like you love seeing _me_. I'm not the one always searching for you in class."

"Oh, really? Then why'd you jump every time my elbow brushes yours?"

The barista hesitantly sets down both of their orders, but neither of them seems to notice.

"I don't jump," she says, a bit louder. "It's an uncontrollable physical reaction to how revolting it is to be close to you."

He chuckles harshly. "Please, Devi. You're about as subtle as a newborn elephant. You can't resist me."

"You just haven't made any friends yet, which is why you look for me everywhere I go. Stalker much?"

"I'm not the one always sitting alone in the dining hall," he insists, raising his voice. "Like, I've known you've been lame for ages, but this has to be a new low. Do you know pitiful you look eating a vanilla ice cream cone by yourself at 1 pm?"

Something flickers behind her eyes and before he can take it back, she moves to the left.

He's about to congratulate himself but then she steps back, and suddenly he's drenched in cold, bitter smelling liquid.

"You're such a fucking asshole, Ben," she says quietly.

He watches her leave the shop, and something deep inside him hurts.

Fuck.

His phone dings then, and he looks down. She's Venmoed him for the coffee and a dollar extra, writing, _the extra is for your shirt._

It's not an apology, but it's so _them_ that he smiles a little.

 _Your dollar isn't going to cover a square inch of this shirt,_ he sends back.

It's unsettling how easily he forgives her, honestly.

* * *

It's funny because, as much as Ben shits on Devi for being lonely, he's in the exact same fucking boat.

College has a way of making people feel that way, at least for the first few weeks, he figures. But now it's halfway through September and he still has no friends, save for his roommate, so he makes the unwise decision to text Devi that weekend.

 _Hey_ , he writes. _Wanna study for the Econ midterm together today?_

Surprisingly, she responds within the hour.

_sure, i guess. where?_

His heart jumps _. My apartment, if you want._

 _be there in twenty_ , she writes, with the puking emoji.

He springs into action, picking up his roommate's empty ramen boxes and rearranging the pillows on their minuscule leather couch. It's uncanny to be nervous, he tells himself. It's just Devi, the same girl who fell into his pool and broke his beakers in chemistry and, well, kissed once on a cliff. The third thought sets his nerves alight, and he struggles to push the memory of her mouth out of his head.

Quicker than he thought possible, he hears a knock, and he rubs his sweaty palms against his sweats as he goes to open it.

She's standing there, in a simple sweatshirt and shorts that are probably very inappropriate for the weather. She seems to be just as focused on the latter, though, for a different reason than him.

"Hi. Are you gonna let me in or just stare at me? I'm fucking freezing."

He stumbles back, holding the door open.

"Thanks," she mutters, shuffling in. "This is for you."

He accepts the crinkly paper wrapped object she shoves at him, but waits to open it while she scans his apartment. It's the first time she's seeing it, and although he's made sure everything is in its place, but he can't help but feel on edge with the clinical, inquisitive way she's dissecting it.

"Uh, why are you—what is this?"

She looks back at him, eyes more hesitant than usual. "It's a croissant."

"A croissant," he repeats.

"For, you know, the other day, at the, um, shop."

"When you threw your ice cold coffee on me?"

She has the decency to blush the slightest bit. "Yeah."

"You know, when you do something wrong, you usually just apologize. Maybe if you tried that, you wouldn't have to keep spending your money on guilt-gifts for me."

"Yeah, I don't think so."

He turns to walk towards his room. "Nothing says sorry better than an actual apology, Devi."

She grumbles as she follows him. "Just eat the damn croissant."

They settle themselves on opposite ends of his bed, awkwardly, seeming to get the silent memo that neither of them wants to sit on the cold carpet.

It's the only time he's been in his room with a girl without the promise of something sexual, and the fact that she's an exception almost makes him want to work to counteract the shift in the scale, to work against the law of inertia, to keep everything in the tidy, neat boxes it is.

"I don't know why we have to study for this class," she begins. "It's literally a one credit."

"One credits count too. Plus, I still want to beat you, and I know you still want to beat me, so any extra studying is just gonna help us. Why not do the extra studying with the person I'm trying to beat? The whole keep your friends close and your enemies closer thing."

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "So are we enemies or friends?"

The air in his lungs stops in his throat, because right now, the way she's looking at him makes him want to push her down against his bed. His pillows are just _there_ , and it'd be so simple, so easy to just kiss her. Malibu dances in his mind, the memory of her pliant mouth, her soft hands, her black waves.

Instead, he coughs. "Enemies, obviously. Always."

They spend an hour studying and quizzing each other on the terms they needed to know, and Ben manages to keep thoughts of jumping her out of his head. The boring ins and outs of economic theory did that to a person.

That is, until she stretched her legs out and rolled her neck, face morphing into one of relaxed pleasure as her bones cracked. He keeps his eyes on his notecards, but then she's poking him in the bicep with her toe, and it's hard to ignore her.

"What do you want?"

She pouts. He hates that he finds it cute. "I'm bored. And hungry."

"Well, I'm almost done with these cards. I'll kick you out after, don't worry."

"You're being a terrible host right now." Another poke.

He shrugs, even as her touch makes him want to shiver. "Considering you're still on thin ice for the last time I saw you, I think I'm being a spectacular host."

"Get over it," she says, poking him again. "I was on my period, okay?"

"Oh, well—um, I'm, uh, sorry. I should've taken that into account, y—yeah."

Devi smiles widely at him. "I wasn't. But it's fun to see you freak out at the word period."

Her toe brushes her bicep again, but before she can poke him, he drops his cards and hooks his fingers around her ankle, pulling her towards him.

He ignores her yelp as he moves to draw circles on the soft skin on the inside of her ankle. "You know, it's not very feminist of you to throw that word around to use on men."

Her eyes widen as his fingers move upward, tracing her shin. "The fact that you, a man, is telling me, a woman, how to be feminist isn't all that feminist either."

"Maybe I've just done more research on it."

Her breathing hitches as he gently runs his nails along the skin on the inside of her knee. "I—I still think my point holds."

"Your point simply being that you're a woman, which automatically makes you more feminist than any man?"

Her eyes slip closed as he walks his fingers up her thigh, slowly. "You're taking my—my words out of context."

Ben can't help but smirk as she jerks slightly at his touch. "I think I'm taking them perfectly _in_ context, actually."

He traces the skin of her inner thigh, several inches from her the edge of her shorts because he's a gentleman, but the quiet groan he lets out forces him to stop his movements, because there's a very likely possibility he will _not_ remain one if she keeps making sounds like that.

Her eyes tear open and she looks at him for a split second, chest moving up and down, electricity so apparent between them. The air positively _crackles,_ he thinks, and he has no idea where to go from here.

Then, they both simultaneously look away, and she scrambles off his bed to gather up her things.

"I'm gonna go, uh—get some food."

"Ok, yeah, sure. I'll um—walk you out."

She scutters out of the room and he follows her, trying his best not to look at her legs.

"We should do this again, if you want, of course," Devi says, pausing in the doorway.

He crosses his arms and smirks. "What exactly are you referring to?"

Her eyes flash dangerously. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

He watches her dart down the hallway before he closes the door and sinks down against it, letting out a long exhale.

What the _fuck_ had just happened?

* * *

Devi sees him next at the gym.

Well, that's technically a lie, because he's everywhere.

In her club meetings, in her classes, in the dining hall. Ever since their heated study session, she's seen him more often than not, but unlike before, the undercurrent of tension there makes it charged. They push it aside, though, and continue their conversations, and Devi thinks she talks to him more than she talks to a lot of her so-called friends.

But today, it's her dad's birthday, and running helps, so she's at the gym.

That's what she's doing, running, in her tightest pair of leggings and a tank top she borrowed/stole from her roommate, when Ben comes up to her, and she nearly slips on the treadmill.

" _Woah_ ," he says, placing a hand on the small of her back. "Didn't mean to scare you."

The touch might be comforting if she wasn't currently dripping sweat and trying to forget about her dead dad. "Go away, Gross."

"You've been running for like, over an hour. Don't you want to stop and do something else?"

She grumbles, but decreases the speed so she can walk. "No, I don't want to. I want to run until I forget about everything wrong in my life."

"Um—what do you mean?"

Realizing she slipped up, she quickly deflects. "Why the fuck were you even watching me?"

"Look, Devi, I'm all for being open and honest, but it's hard to do it when only one person is making an effort."

"Ok, then, first you tell me why you were watching me."

He brings a hand up to rub against the back of his neck. "I just—you just seemed so concentrated. It was nice to see you like that. Like, in your zone or whatever."

She turns the treadmill off and steps down. "You're the weirdest person I've ever met."

He follows her to the water fountain, standing next to her as she gulps down a few long drinks. "So, will you tell me what's bothering you? In the vein of being honest, of course."

She sighs and turns to face him. "Do you know a place that serves good apple pie?"

His forehead creases for a few seconds, but then he nods.

He takes her to a diner about fifteen minutes from campus, which is a smart choice on his part. She likes diners.

They sit down, ignoring the fact that they're still dressed in their workout clothes and that it's 5 pm. They're the only ones there, save for a middle-aged man eating pancakes, so it doesn't really matter.

Their waiter is a plump woman, chirpy and kind, and she brings them a slice of warmed apple pie with vanilla ice cream for Devi, and a glass of water for Ben.

"Can't believe you ordered fucking water," Devi mutters, after an extended silence.

He lets his face break into a half-smile. "Please, as if I'd eat diner food. Do you _know_ how much grease they dump on everything?"

"Let me remind you that you're the one who brought me here."

He watches her take a bite of her pie. "Yeah, well, seemed like one of the random things you'd be into, like astrology, or decaying thrift stores."

She wants to argue that there's nothing wrong with either of those things, but she doesn't. Instead, she digs her fork into the pie and holds it out. After some insistent gesturing for a few seconds, he concedes, reluctantly taking it. Devi can tell he's trying to control his shock when he tastes it.

"Good, right?"

He shrugs casually, handing her back her fork. "It's decent, I suppose. Though the ice cream would be better if it were slow-churned and not fucking Breyers or something."

"It's not Breyers, oh my god."

"I literally saw them take it out of the box."

She giggles, then looks back down at her plate, sobering quickly.

He lets her sit in silence for a few minutes, eating her slice of apple pie. Devi can tell he wants to ask her what's going on, but he won't. He waits until she's comfortable, now and always, and it's—nice of him.

"My dad loved apple pie," she says to the empty plate. "Today's his birthday, and I—I don't know how to—I don't know what to do. And it hurt, really bad. Like in my chest, I could feel it hurting, all day. So I went to the gym, and I wanted to run until my muscles got tired, until I felt a different type of pain."

"You wanted it to hurt somewhere else." He says it decisively, like a statement.

She nods at the plate. "Yeah. I hated feeling weak—like a pussy or something. There's feeling numb, and then there's feeling pain, which Dr. Ryan told me is good, but it sucks."

The air conditioning hums quietly, sunlight streaming in from the windows, illuminating Ben's figure. It's a juxtaposition she's not sure how to deal with, the newness of this whole campus, this moment in a random diner, and the tried and true nature of Ben.

She swallows thickly. "Then, I remembered he would want me to be happy on this day, and how he loved apple pie, so I just—I wanted some, you know, for him?"

He nods. "That makes sense."

The words tumble out of her, faster than she can stop them. "It's just fucked, don't you think? Here I am, at Princeton, living a great life, getting an education, and he's not even here to see it. I should be happy and thankful, but all I can think about is how alone I feel, all the goddamn time."

His face changes then, eyes so expressively sympathetic. "Devi, I"—

"Why don't you call me David anymore?"

It's a diversion, a deviant from their current conversation, and they both know it. They are well aware of why she asked it too; just so she didn't have to deal with the de-hashing of what she just confessed, how she opened up.

He stares back at her, mouth a little open, one eyebrow raised. "Uh, I'm sorry, what?"

"David," she says. "You know, the nickname. You don't say it anymore."

He stays frozen in place for a few seconds, mouth open like a fish, before he closes it. "Well, um, I figured you'd want to leave that in, uh, high school."

She feels inexplicable irritation rise in the base of her throat. "When did I say that?"

"You didn't. I just—I figured, you know, we're not kids anymore, and this is a new campus. A different era of our lives and all."

"But we're still the same people." It's a declaration, but it's also a coded ask. _Are we the same people?_

"I guess we are." He's controlled, soft, reigned in, and it does nothing but vex her further.

She huffs out a short breath, exasperated. "I just need something constant, Ben. Ok? Like, everything is changing and college is crazy and different and I don't feel like myself and it's super fucking _a lot. Y_ ou've known me for years. So, just—call me David. It'll make things simpler for me."

He bites his lip, eyes darting all over her face. "Ok, yeah. I'll—I'll do that."

She nods and reaches for her wallet, placing the money on the table. Then she gets up, and he does too. They stare at each other for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

She's already grandly fucked things up, so she might as well make it more bizarre.

Devi leans in and circles her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shoulder. She hears him take in a sharp breath, but then he brings his arms around her, patting her back glumly, as if he's being forced to hug his imposing aunt.

"There, there," he says, mockingly.

She chuckles into his shirt. "You smell terrible."

"Well, do you think _you_ smell like a field of fucking daisies?"

He'd always been her constant, is the thing.

* * *

She remembered Ben had rushed a frat, and that he'd gotten a bid. She also knew that the Jewish frat was smaller than most, a little more intimate and closed off.

So the night of their first frat party of the year, she'd persuaded her roommate to come with her, ordered the smallest skirt she could find from some cheap online seller, and done her makeup as best she could.

The issue here was that she wasn't exactly sure what she was trying to prove.

Her roommate, Rosalia, and her walk over to the frat houses around 10:30, after pregaming with some Fireball that Rosalia's boyfriend had given her. The alcohol was running through Devi's system, fueling her, making the blood flow a little faster. This, along with how good she _knew_ she looked, made her feel unstoppable. Nothing could stop her.

Except for, of course, the bouncer.

"Hello, ma'am. We're gonna need to check if you're on the list," the man says, gesturing towards himself and a frat brother, who was holding a laptop.

"Shit," Rosalia mutters to her.

Devi elbows her roommate and aims a wide smile at the two. "Well, of course we are. You can check to make sure."

She gives them their names three different times, insisting they're spelling their names wrong, even hinting at racism, but sure enough, they're not on the list.

"Well, that's crazy," she says, still looking at the bouncer. "I told Ben to put me on the list."

A blatant lie, and she'd pay for it later.

"Ben? Which Ben?" the man asks.

"Ben Gross," she says back. "He's a brother, and he's my friend."

The man crosses his arms at her, still staring her down, but addresses the guy with the laptop. "Find this Ben."

Devi breaks into a smile.

After ten minutes, which she spends most of assuring Rosalia that _everything's gonna be alright_ , the door to the house opens and Ben stumbles out, holding a beer and looking slightly disheveled.

"David?" he questions.

She smirks in lieu of a greeting.

The bouncer turns to face him. "This young lady says you forgot to put her and her friend on the list. Do you know her?"

Ben's still staring at her, and she can see the second the challenge enters his eyes. _What would you do if I say no?_

She tilts her head, raises an eyebrow. _You don't want to find out._

He sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Let them in."

Devi grabs Rosalia's hand and pushes her way past the bouncer, then Ben, grinning triumphantly.

It'd taken some work, but it'd paid off. Now she was free to get as drunk as she wanted.

After her third vodka cran and an hour of dancing in the middle of a sticky throng of people with Rosalia, Devi decided she needed to find the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go pee," she says to her friend, pulling her aside. "You wanna come with?"

Her friend glances behind her, where a tall, tan kid holds up his hand. "I think I'm gonna go home with, um"—

"Ok, girl, I see you," Devi chirps. "Go have fun. Be safe. Text me, ok?"

After her friend promises to text her, she waves and heads to the bathroom. It's entirely sickening, complete with a roll of condoms on the ground and face wash in place of hand soap, but she does what she needs to do and examines herself in the mirror, adjusting her tank top.

She emerges from the bathroom and barely takes two steps before a hand loops around her wrist and she's pulled into a different hallway, almost dark and secluded from the rest of the house. Her heart jumps as she remembers the danger of being intoxicated and alone, but then blue eyes enter her vision and she breathes out.

His eyes always calm her down.

"What—what are you doing?" she stammers out, as he loops an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him.

Ben smirks, in the cocky way that makes her stomach clench. "You owe me, David."

"For what?"

He smiles and leans down towards her ear. "For getting you into this party."

Devi tries not to shiver as his lips graze her earlobe. "Well, too bad it sucks ass."

"I'm not sure that's true." His breath puffs into her ear, and _dear God_ , she can feel the slickness between her thighs already.

She reaches a hand out and trails it down his chest, scratching his abdomen gently. "I guess you're right. I was having a great time before you ambushed me in this hallway."

"Is that so?" he questions, as he places a singular kiss to her jaw.

Devi doesn't respond, and then he boldly drops a hand to her ass, pulling her farther against him. Her eyes widen, and she can see his darken in the span of a few seconds, azure to ultramarine.

"You knew what you were doing when you wore this skirt, didn't you? To _my_ frat?"

"I don't know what you mean. It's just a piece of clothing." It'd be more convincing if she wasn't breathless.

Ben groans and leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. It's oddly intimate, considering the fact that they haven't even done _anything_. "Please, Devi. You always know what you're doing."

She breaks into a smirk. "You're not wrong there."

He rushes the next words out in a quick exhale, as if he's been working up the courage to say them for a while. "Come to my apartment."

She blinks at him a few times. "Huh?"

"My apartment. I'm leaving now. Come with me."

Desire is so clearly evident in his eyes, but she also finds something softer, something more kind, like if she said no, he'd be okay with it.

It's what makes her say yes. "Ok."

It takes all of five minutes to walk back to his place, which they spend trudging in silence, not touching each other once. It only adds to the tension pounding in Devi's ears.

Ben's hands are on her the minute his bedroom door closes, and he kisses her, pushing her against the door. She moans into his ear, and then he pulls back to look at her, the _something_ _else_ overtaking his eyes.

Devi doesn't complain as he hooks his hands under her thighs and picks her up, walking her over to his bed. Clothes are strewn off quickly and then he's fumbling for a foil package and everything is moving extremely fast.

"Ben, wai—wait," she says, as he rolls the condom on himself.

He halts his movements so immediately that she almost chuckles. "Are you ok? What's wrong?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Is this gonna happen again?"

He traces her cheekbone with his thumb, leaning down to follow the path with his lips. "If you want it to, yeah. But if you don't, no."

She opens her eyes. "What do _you_ want?"

"I'm fine with whatever you want to give me." He whispers it to her, like it's their secret.

Her heart twists, painfully, in her chest. "Ok."

He's still looking into her eyes when he thrusts into her, and when they come together, a few moments later.

It feels extremely private, like they're in love.

* * *

They begin a friends with benefits arrangement after that night, and Ben can't put a finger on which part of that phrase they emphasize more.

It starts with her showing up at his room a week later, twisting her hands nervously, intent clear in her eyes.

After that, the chips all fall into line.

They spend more time together than they do apart, finding each other on campus with the simple ease of two magnets clicking together. It's funny text messages and coffee runs and sleeping in on Sundays and running late for class together. This time, it's _purposeful_ , intentional, and he thinks it's a lot better this way.

Both of their roommates think they're dating, and they correct them more times than they both imagined to be possible. He takes her to his frat formal and she takes him to some Indian cultural event on campus. He brings her chocolate ice cream from the place on the corner she likes when she's feeling down, and she brings him croissants from his favorite coffee shop when he's stressed.

Ben realizes that they both crave consistency, but specifically, from each other.

He knows that he should bring it up, confront whatever _this_ is between them, but there's a certain thrill in the build-up that he doesn't want to get rid of. Sometimes, the climb is more rewarding than the view at the top, and he thinks it might be the case here. It's the eye of the storm, chaos swirling around them, but for now, they're safe.

* * *

With them, though, it's only characteristic for things to come crashing down, in the worst possible of ways. 

They're in his bed, him wearing his boxers and reading a book, her wearing his t-shirt and scrolling through Instagram on her phone. He's laying on her belly and she's leaning back against his headboard.

Ben tries, really tries to focus on his book, but he can't help but notice that this isn't what is supposed to be happening. They're not _supposed_ to be doing this.

Fueled by the thought, he clears his throat. "David."

She hums in response, light from her screen still illuminating her face.

"I, uh—I haven't been on a date in a while." He's still focused on his book, but in his peripheral, he can see her eyes lift.

"Oh," she says, shortly. "Is that a problem?"

"No, just an observation."

"Oh, um, ok."

They're silent for a few moments, each turning over their thoughts in their respective brains. Ben, for one, feels the heaviness in the room a thousand times more, registers the rise and fall of her belly against his head more clearly, smells her body wash better.

Then, Devi clears her throat. "Are you, um, thinking about going on one?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe, if I find the time."

"You don't think you have the time?"

They both are careful, measured, and it's so unlike them that Ben wonders where the catch is.

"I mean, I spend most of it with you, so it's kinda hard for me to meet new people."

"Ok, well, what are you saying?"

"Nothing."

"Clearly, you must mean something," Devi insists, tone sharpening. "Because you're talking in riddles for no fucking reason."

This. _This_ is where the catch is, Ben realizes. It's funny, because _this_ should've been rehashed a while back, brought to the surface and destroyed, debunked. But they didn't and as a result, this is where they're both floating right now, a grey area.

"We just spend a lot of time together," he says, dropping his book and sitting up to face her. "That's all I'm saying."

She scoffs. "Well, if you want to spend less time with me, all you have to do is say so. It's not extremely difficult, I'm sure, since you did it for the first few months we were here."

He must look overtly perplexed, because she plunders on. "Do you not remember? At the beginning? In the College Dems meetings and in class? You acted like you wanted nothing to do with me."

Ben bites the inside of his cheek before he responds. "I only did that because I thought _you_ wanted nothing to do with me."

"What made you think that?" she says, a little shrilly.

"That's just—what I got from you."

"I started all our conversations! I looked for you everywhere I went!" she bursts out. "Dammit, Ben, like _come on._ "

" _What?_ What do you mean by that?"

"Connect the fucking dots, is what I mean!"

He tries to think, he really does, but then she's getting up and throwing her things in her backpack, and he's too shocked to do something.

She pulls on shorts, not bothering to take his shirt off, and then she's leaving the room without a second glance.

It feels awfully similar to Malibu. Distressingly in the same vein.

The only difference here is that he has nothing to lose. He already lost everything on that cliff.

So he pulls on a shirt and runs after her, throwing open his bedroom door, and then his apartment door with a _bang_. He frantically looks both ways, and there she is, waiting for the elevator.

"Devi. _Devi,_ " he calls, but all she does is jab the button for the elevator harder.

He jogs, more so runs, over to her, grabbing her wrist, and stopping her from moving.

"Let go of me," she insists, trying to pull her wrist out of his grasp, and fuck, why does she have to be _so_ difficult?

He does, but he doesn't step away. This isn't how he expected this to go, not at all. It's clear she didn't even put on a bra in her hurry to leave, he's still wearing his boxers, and for a brief moment, Ben prays no one on his floor walks out of their apartments, because the situation they're in is almost comically embarrassing.

Frankly, they're both being incredibly stubborn.

"Listen to me," he pleads, trying to meet her eyes. She doesn't grant him that pleasure, instead staring at the carpet as if it's the most interesting thing she's ever seen.

"Devi, ever since we came here, I've wanted to be with you. How could you _not_ know that? I only played it safe at the beginning, well, because you seemed like you wanted a fresh start. I didn't want to force someone else who didn't want to spend time with me to do so."

He winces involuntarily at how miserable he sounds, but she looks up then, and comfort is swimming in her brown irises.

"If I'm being honest," he says, taking her hand gently, "you're the only thing that's been holding me together these past few months."

It's the inevitable truth. She's what keeps him going, now and always. It's been her, and she needs him just as much as he needs her. Their connection is what makes them function, like a set of attached pulleys.

"Well," she begins softly, "I guess it's pointless to try to run from you anymore."

A pause.

"Because you hold me together too."

He can't help but break into the biggest grin. "That's the one thing you've been right about, David."

"Excuse me? I'm always right," she insists defiantly.

He laughs then, and pulls her close, to kiss the crown of her head.

* * *

Devi is packing for winter break as she thinks over the semester. It'd been a good first one, starting off slow but picking up quickly, like a train leaving a station. She'd made friends, become a lot closer with her roommate, joined a bunch of social justice clubs, and it'd been memorable. Significant. Something she would be happy to recollect.

There is one mistake she made, though.

From the beginning, she never really tried all that hard to avoid Ben.

She's at peace with it, because if even she had, they still would've ended up together, tangled up in each other's lives and destinies. Their history was too far from _nothing_ for it to be any different.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, as always
> 
> feel free to find me on tumblr @ravenclawbutcrabby :))


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